


Though I’ve Handled the Wood I Still Worship The Flame

by Excuseyouclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Doctor Clarke Griffin, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Minor Bellamy Blake/Echo, Open Marriage, Sexual Content, Teacher Bellamy Blake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24800365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excuseyouclarke/pseuds/Excuseyouclarke
Summary: Bellamy’s spent his life trying not to be his mother, trying so hard not to be held down. But Clarke challenges that, makes him believe in love and makes him see what he’s been missing out on.There’s only one problem - he’s married, and though it’s an open marriage, he knows it will devastate Clarke.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 20
Kudos: 270
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	Though I’ve Handled the Wood I Still Worship The Flame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [h_mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_mara/gifts).



> Prompt: The one where Bellamy and Echo are in an open marriage. Everything is fine until Bellamy meets Clarke and his world finally shifts into focus. Bonus Points: if Clarke doesn’t know that Bellamy is a married man way into their FWB relationship. (for the angst of course).
> 
> This work is a Part of the t100fics for BLM initiative, if you haven’t already I fully recommend checking out the tumblr page for the fantastic work that’s going on in the community.

The sound of the shower in their tiny apartment seems to bounce off the walls. If Echo stayed in the wet room any longer water would start to steep through the door again, the carpet outside it is stained brown, stagnant from neither of them bothering to mop it up.

Next door, through the paper thin walls a baby cries, he doesn’t know it’s name, but there’s a deep seeded childhood instinct to –

_Feed the damn baby, Bellamy! Don’t let her cry._

Don’t let her cry.

He shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, it’s old and cheap and dips in the middle of the cushions, the springs dig into places they shouldn’t - but it does the job. Somehow there’s an abundance of channels on the television and nothing to watch. The news tells him the worlds going to shit but he knew that anyway, he doesn’t need an overpaid news anchor to tell him that.

The water finally stops with a groan he hopes there’s enough hot water to at least let him wash his hair. He hates cold water, hates the cold. Winter in New York is brutal and he wishes for nothing more than to pack their shit up and move west, the middle of the Nevada desert would suit him just fine.

But his life’s here, his friends, Echo’s family in Montreal are a car journey away, not that it bothers her. Octavia’s here, somewhere – disapproving of his choice in wife, and worse, their choice of a non committing marriage. She doesn’t understand how an _open marriage_ could possibly be satisfying.

He smirks at her choice of words, _oh,_ he wants to say to her; _it’s plenty satisfying._ He never does say that though, just shrugs and says it works fine. If he told her it was a Green Card marriage she’d report them without thinking twice, without giving a shit about how Bellamy felt.

While it wasn’t the perfect marriage, it worked. In his own way he loved her, which is more than he’d ever thought he would get from a relationship.

Octavia had spent their childhood sheltered from the worst of the horrors their mother put them through. He knows it doesn’t feel like it, but he did his best. He’d locked her in the tiny box with her ragged bunny teddy and headphones plugged into the Walkman and the only three CDs they owned. She hadn’t heard the men in her mothers room.

She hadn’t seen _the man_ , the one who tried to hold their mother down to a relationship, the one who didn’t accept that raising two children on a seamstress wage wasn’t enough, but didn’t do a single damn thing to help her. She needed to find _other ways_ to make money.

Other ways she’d be punished for.

He’d shielded Octavia from what he could, but he knows she still saw too much. So while she ran to the safety of an older man, someone stable who made her feel safe for the first time but still gave her the freedom to be a little…wild, he knows he’ll never let himself be tied down, its not worth it.

That’s why the arrangement with Echo works so well. They’re married, they get the benefits of being married, do their taxes together, Echo keeps her job here and he doesn’t have the hypothetical ball and chain around his ankle he’d always imagined he’d have in a marriage. He’s not being held down, and he can never, ever hold someone down.

The door to the bathroom creaks open and Echo walks out with a towel around her, hair dripping still. She raises an eyebrow at the television.

“You watching this?”

He finally breaks out of his daze, blinking at the gunshots on the television. Some stupid crime investigation show. “God no” he snorts “I was just thinking.”

“Detention duty was fun then?”

He frowns, detention on a Friday was as much a punishment for the teacher on duty as it was for the kids. “As always.”

He’d come out of college bright eyed ready to be _that_ teacher, the one who the kids came to when they were in trouble, when their home lives were shit he’d be their safe haven. He’d go into an underfunded school in a bad area and he’d make a difference.

It’s laughable now, nobody makes a difference in these places, the kids are wild and undisciplined, disrespectful and painfully ignored at home. They’re all just trying to make it through the day. Hell, Friday night detention is probably a refuge for some of them.

It certainly wasn’t for him.

It takes him a moment too long to realise that Echo’s just asked him a question, now shes staring at him expectantly, and he’s got no answer. “I’m sorry, what?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I said have you got any plans for tonight?”

“Oh.” He grimaces when he looks at his phone, by the 19 unread messages on the group chat, he’d say he’s got plans. “Yeah, I’m meeting Murphy and Miller at the Drop ship. Ten minutes ago, apparently.”

Echo grins at him “Well you’d better hurry up then.”

“There better be hot water left.”

She snorts as the bedroom door shuts, its unlikely then.

Echo’s dressed and putting an obscene amount of make up on when he gets out of the lukewarm shower.

“Are you coming back tonight?” She asks as he’s dressing. Theres so accusation or presumption in her tone but – Bree put an end to their arrangement last week, she’d wanted more, more than she could have with a married man. She wanted a house in Connecticut and the white picket fence in a nice neighbourhood to raise a brood of children he doesn’t want. So yeah – there wasn’t exactly a reason for him not to be coming home.

“Probably” he shrugs. Unless he finds a different offer, which was unlikely there by now, he knows almost at the bar so he doubts it somehow.

“Okay” she bites her lip, there’s more – there usually is. “Can you text me when you’re leaving then?”

Roan.

“Yeah, of course.” He kisses her cheek on his way out, and makes a mental note to be out late.

-*-

The bars packed, it’s Friday though so it’s to be expected. Some amateur band are playing up front, they’re a bit too shouty for his liking, but he’s not here for the music, he’s here for the ridiculously cheap beer.

Sliding into the booth, Murphy gives him a mock salute and raises his beer. Bellamy raises his beer back and takes a sip.

“Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence” Murphy smirks. Next to him, Jasper’s slumped on the sticky table, Monty staring down at him disdainfully.

“What’s his problem?” Bellamy jerked his head towards Jasper, Murphy rolled his eyes.

“That girl smiled at him”

“Which girl?”

“Exactly” Miller gives him a shit eating grin.

“Maya” Monty answered, finally looking up at Bellamy. “The nurse that keeps patching him up.”

Jasper raises his head slowly with a groan, like a zombie rising from its grave. “I love her.” Theres a row of stitches over his eyebrow.

“So you’re injuring yourself just to go to the hospital?”

Jasper snorts like it’s the most ridiculous think he’s ever heard. “Only when she’s on shift.”

“Obviously” he rolls his eyes and downs his beer. Monty tells him to just ask her out already.

“Pitcher?” He asks Murphy, who’s staring at Jasper like he’s about to murder him.

“Pitcher” Murphy agrees and follows him to the bar. They manage to worm their way between crowds of drinkers and dancers occupying the bar space unnecessarily. “I’m going to smother him with a fucking pillow.” He mutters once they’re leant against the bar, its wet and sticky and stinks of stale beer. The bartenders are running back and forth giving each other exasperated looks. He can sympathise, he’d worked here through college – not that it means he gets served any faster, the staff work on a revolving door of exhausted college students and down and outs.

Across the bar, a curtain of blonde hair catches his eye. She’s leaning forward, elbows stuck to the bar and staring at the row of bottles dispassionately. She seems to sense she’s being stared at and looks over to him. Even in the dimly lit bar he can see she’s beautiful, blue eyes meet his and twinkle mischievously as she rolls her eyes, signally she’s fed up of waiting. He raises an eyebrow and gives her a half shrug, _what are you gonna do?_ She smiles and looks down at the bar and shakes her head a little, hair falling forward to cover her face.

“What can I get you?” He looks up at the bartender, sweaty and out of breath, he’s a good ten years younger than Bellamy, _get the fuck out_ he wants to say.

“Two pitchers of bud, and whatever the blondes having” he jerks his head towards where she’s tapping her fingers impatiently on the bar. The kid raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anymore.

Murphy, however raises his eyebrows and says “Didn’t realise it was that kind of a night.”

“I’m a sucker for pretty blondes, what can I say?” He mutters as he pulls his wallet out passes a bunch of crinkled notes towards the bartender.

Across the bar, she raises her bottle of whatever to him in thanks. He smirks back and she turns to talk to another girl.

“Holy shit” Murphy spits, hitting his arm just as he’s picking up a pitcher. He saves it luckily, but turns to glare at Murphy anyway.

“What the hell?”

“That’s her” he hisses, pointing to his blonde – not _his_ blonde but –

“Who? What? Talk in sentences, Murphy.”

“Jaspers nurse”

He’s surprised is neck doesn’t snap with how quickly he looks over. She’s still talking to the other girl, probably a friend or work colleague. He feels a stab of disappointment despite being pretty damn sure she wouldn’t go for a guy like Jasper, but he’s sure as hell not going to step on his toes.

“Are you being serious?” He snaps

“Yeah” Murphy snorts “That girl your Blondes talking to. Jasper must have overheard her saying she was coming here tonight, the little shit no wonder he was so insistent.”

Bellamy doesn’t care about Murphy’s rant, he’s just relieved that his Blonde’s still –

What? Up for grabs? He shakes the thought out his head and picks up the pitcher. “Well I’m not telling him, he’s insufferable enough as it is.”

Murphy snorts in agreement, and they slide back into their booth.

At some point in the night the band stops playing and his head stops pounding. The crowd thins enough for him to get through to the smoking area, he sits on one of the benches, pulling his jacket around his further as the wind takes an icy turn. He pulls a Marlboro gold out the pack and takes a minute to just sit in the quiet. Despite the cold its peaceful, he wonders why the hell they come to bars like this anymore.

His peace is broken when the fire door bangs open. He angles himself away, not in the mood for more socialising than he had to. Until –

 _Not his blonde_.

But she’s there, perched daintily on the edge of a bench the opposite side of the court, cigarette dangling her her fingers and phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly. He’s having an internal debate to talk to her, but she looks like she’s come out here for as much peaceful solace as he has. But still – misery loves company.

He’s just about made the decision when the fire door once again bangs open and –

“There you are – what are you doing?” The thought intruder doesn’t notice his presence, instead marches towards pretty blonde, who looks up in alarm.

“I was just – ” she waves the hand with her phone in “ – getting some air”

Theres a heavy pause, and though he’s still invisible, he feels like he’s intruding on something.

“Right. Some air is you sneaking out to smoke?”

She snorts, its delicate and humourless “I don’t really see why it has anything to do with you.”

“I don’t get you, Clarke. One minute we’re together, the next you don’t want anything to do with me.”

The girl – Clarke – shakes her head in disbelief, Bellamy feels like he’s watching one of the stupid dramas Octavia used to love.

“No, we weren’t together. We were fucking, Cillian, and I made that clear. I don’t want a relationship, I don’t need one stop thinking you can try and change that.”

Cillian wraps his hand around Clarkes arm, trying to pull her up off the bench. “You’re drunk and clearly not thinking straight. Lets just go in from the cold and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

She tries to pull her arm away, but he’s got a vice like grip on her. Something twists uncomfortably in Bellamy’s stomach.

“No get off I’m staying out here” she snaps, there’s a vicious tone to it that makes Bellamy flinch, but Cillian’s still trying to pull her inside.

“Clarke – ”

“She said no” Bellamy interrupts, flicking his cigarette stub to the side as he stands from his bench. This guys probably about the same height as him, but not as bulky – he’s smaller, leaner. Bellamy could absolutely take him in a fight. Cillian gives his an apprehensive glance.

“I’m sorry, does this have anything to do with you?”

Clarke looks over to him, there’s a brief flash of recognition in her eyes before she looks away and pulls her arm sharply away.

“It will do if you don’t leave her alone.” Bellamy’s responds, taking a step closer. Cillian gives Clarke a look of disbelief, a look that says _see this guy, getting all up in our business._

Clarke has no time for him, though. She jerks her head towards the door and says “You should go.”

He glares between Clarke and Bellamy, but neither back down and he storms away, door swinging violently on its hinges.

“I had that, you know. I didn’t need saving.”

He smirks “Yeah. You’re welcome”

She smiles back, teeth flashing as she lets out a laugh. “Thank you, for the drink earlier.”

“I panicked for a minute there” he confesses “Thought I’d bought another mans girl a drink.”

Theres a soft sort of look in her eyes, but the same mischievous twinkle that was there earlier. She’s got that look that could destroy a man in seconds. “No” she smiles “I don’t do belonging to people”

He sits on the bench she was on, she follows suit, pulling her obscenely short skirt down as she sits next to him. “I bet you don’t. I’m Bellamy, by the way.”

“Clarke.” She pulls a cigarette from her purse and passes one to him. “As a thank you, for unnecessarily saving me.”

He takes it with a nod and winces at the first breath. “Jesus, I should have guessed you’d be a menthol girl.” She smiles half apologetically “So are you going to tell me what just went down with – ” he gestures vaguely back towards the bar “ – or are you going to make me fill in the gaps?”

Her faces lights up momentarily with the glow of her lighter, and she’s radiant. He can see what Cillian was getting worked up over. “I thought he knew what we were doing, friends with benefits and all that but he let feelings get involved, and it gets messy when you break up with someone you work with, you know?”

He nods, but he doesn’t know. He’s dated one person he’s worked with, and married them so they could keep their job. Maybe that’s an unfair way of looking at it, its not like he doesn’t love her, probably not in the way she deserves to be loved, and she doesn’t love him like she’s supposed to love, but it works for them, they’re both their own special brand of fucked up, and honestly isn’t marriage the end goal for relationships anyway? Wasn’t that what he was supposed to do – move in with her and get married, it was a natural progression of their relationship, even if their relationship meant sleeping with other people it worked for them.

“You’re not a relationship kind of a girl?” He guessed.

“It’s just – my work schedules hectic, I work super long days and night shifts and there’s no pattern to it. It’s hard to keep a relationship when you re not there enough. My last two relationships fucked me over for good anyway.”

He winces sympathetically. “Yeah I get that.”

“What’s your deal then?” She asks with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“What makes you think I’ve got a deal?”

“You’re over here talking to me.”

He laughs “That’s fair. Yeah okay, commitment issues, like seriously” serious enough to get married and fuck other people, and not blink at his wife doing the same. She raises her bottle to him, he clinks it with his pint glass.

She’s a doctor, he finds out, and he mocks her relentlessly for smoking. She mocks him for being a bad role model to his students and as they laugh, he forgets about the cold and wind, the clouds heavy in the sky threatening snow. He forgets about everything that’s not her smile in that moment.

Until the door bangs opens again and someone shouts “There you are.”

Clarke sighs and rolls her eyes at him. “Hi, Maya.” She shuffles back towards Bellamy so Maya can sit down. Clarke sways slightly, and Bellamy puts a hand on her hip to steady her. She places her hand over his briefly, but he gets the message, keep it there. Maya’s talking obsessively about –

_Something._

He’s not paying attention, he doesn’t care. It vaguely registers in his mind that she’s the girl Jaspers obsessing over, but when he’s got Clarke right here, his hand roaming up her waist and making her breath hitch when his thumb brushes the side of her breast. She shifts on the bench, still nodding and _hmm’s_ at the right moment, but he doubts she’s actually taking in anything Mayas saying. She finally snaps when his hand drifts to her thigh and squeezes.

“Maya just go talk to him, honestly it’ll be fine”

Maya frowns in surprise. “But what if it’s not?”

“Then it’s not, but you’re not going to know if you don’t just at least say hello”

“Yeah Maya,” he smirks, Maya looks to him in confusion “go talk to Jasper, please. He keeps injuring himself in hopes of seeing you and I’m worried Murphy’s going to give him a fatal injury soon.”

“How do you – ” she started, but Bellamy cut her off, he really, _really_ needed her to go now.

“Jaspers my friend, and he’s been pining for ages just – he’ll probably wont be able to talk at first but once you get past it he’s great.

Clarke quirks an eyebrow “Go get your guy.”

Maya looks between the two of them and nods, standing unsteadily and finally leaving them alone. Clarke slumps back against him, he laughs and winds his arms around her waist. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol making him so forward or if it’s just her, but she’s receptive, and he thinks he’s got a chance of not going home tonight.

The DJ starts up inside, the music rattling the ancient fire escape door and shaking his insides.

“Come dance?” She asks, sickly sweet and he’s so screwed.

“I don’t dance” he snorts, but she stands anyway and looks down at him with a challenge in her eyes.

“Well I’m going to dance, whether you join me or not.” She turns to leave and he smirks, he’s definitely met his match with this one.

“Oh I’m coming” she turns to grin at him, devilish and sweet and takes his hand, leading him through the crowds and into he middle of the dance floor.

He meant it when he said he didn’t dance, so he follows her lead and places his hands on her hips when she wraps her arms around his neck. She’s pressed against him as they move to the beat. When he loses the rhythm she laughs and moves her hands to his hips, trying to guide him to the beat, but he knows its mainly fruitless, he’s got as much musicality as a rock. They spend most their time laughing though, his cheeks hurt and he cant remember the last time he felt so free, so happy and careless.

She pulls him down to press her forehead to his as they dance, pushing herself forward so there’s no space between them. Blue eyes meet his, then he drops them to her lips. If there was even a good moment, now would be it.

She’s decided he’s hesitated a moment too long though, and tilts her head up and presses her lips to his. For a moment, he’s taken over by something he’s not sure he’s ever felt before. A surge of electricity runs through him, burns everywhere she touches he’s worried it will leave a permanent mark he’ll never want to get rid of. She tastes like mint and fruity alcopops, so sweet he’ll never be able to forget it. It’s criminal really, how perfect she is.

“Fuck” he feels her say it, more than hears her as his mouth moves to her neck, the overwhelming scent of expensive perfume clings to her skin. His hands move to her ass pulls her closer, desperately craving friction against the ever growing bulge in his jeans. She feels it too, if her gasp is anything to go by.

Time doesn’t seem to mean anything while his mouth is on hers, he doesn’t know how many songs pass them by, he doesn’t care, either. Her fingers are tangled in his hair and her lips are insanely soft and he knows if he doesn’t get more soon, he’s going to go crazy.

“I know a place,” he shouts over the music, its loud enough so only she hears. “If you wanted to.”

She looks up at him eyes wide and beautiful and nods, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Are you sure?”

She laughs “For gods sake” she shouts over the music “Yes, before I combust.”

It’s all he needs to hear to take her hand and lead her back through the crowds, not paying attention to who he’s shoving out the way to get to where he needs to go. He pushes through a no entry door, and the music dulls.

“Are we supposed to be here?” His ears are ringing and fuzzy, Clarke sounds unsure as he carries on pulling her through the corridor.

“It’s a service corridor, nobody ever comes down here while the place is packed, they don’t have the time.”

“Okay” she still sounds unsure “you know this how?”

He turns to grin wolfishly at her “I used to work here.”

“Oh” she perks up now “In which case continue.”

It’s still a maze here, he prays the place he’s looking for is still there. After turning the last corner, he breaths a sigh of relief as the door that once said _staff only_ is covered by an old yellowing hand written _out of order_ sign. He pulls it open and pulls her inside. It’s probably not the best place for a hookup, it hasn’t been used – or cleaned – in years, but it’s private and far enough away that no one will hear them – and he plans on taking advantage of that fact.

“Still sure?” He asks as he watches her take in the old service toilet. She just raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not easily scared.”

“Good” he presses his lips to hers again, backing her into the door and pinning her there with his hips “Because you’ve been driving me insane all night.”

“God I know” she gasps “This is all I could think about on the dance floor. I don’t usually do this, I swear.”

He moves down to her throat and snorts “You mean you don’t hook up with guys in abandoned service toilets?”

She laughs and shakes her head “No, never”

“Me neither” he grins, then bites back a moan as her hands move to his jeans, unbuttoning them with an unfair ease and pushing them down with his boxers, finally freeing him. Her hand wraps around him and strokes him, slowly and experimentally, but he’s already completely fucked, he’s not going to last.

He slides her skirt up to her waist and pulls her panties down in one swoop, letting her step out and kick them to the side. She hisses as dips a finger between her legs. “Fuck Clarke, how long have you been like this?”

“Too long.”

He snorts out a laugh that dissolves into a groan as her hand strokes him faster, confident now she squeezes him tighter and strokes her thumb over his tip.

He feels like a teenager, sneaking around behind the bleachers with his fingers inside a cheerleader. She was blonde, too.

“Bellamy” she moans as he pushes another finger inside her, the sound goes straight to his cock. “I need you.”

“You got me.” He pants against her neck, but she shakes her head.

“No, I need you inside me.” He pulls back to look at her, she looks as wrecked as he feels. She takes her hand off him to pull the straps of her tank top down, revealing a lacy bra and probably the most amazing tits he’s ever seen. His free hand moves by its own volition to squeeze her, they’re more than a handful, his mind fills with an obscure amount of things he wants to do to them, but now is not the time, she cuts his thoughts off when she asks “Condom?”

He nods sharply and finishes his wallet out of his back pocket, grateful for the emergency condom in there he’s never had to use before. He’s no stranger to hook ups, but never like this, he’s never had something so passionate and desperate that he’s took a girl into a bar toilet before.

She watches through hooded eyes as he rolls the condom on with shaky hands. He doesn’t hesitate to grip behind her thighs and hoist her up, her legs wrapping tight around him. He just hopes he door doesn’t rattle too much.

“You sure?” He asks again as the tip of his cock pushes into her entrance. She nods lets her head fall back against the door when he pushes in deeper. She’s tight around him, he buries his face in the crook of her neck as she adjusts to him.

“Move” she rasps, and Bellamy doesn’t need to hear anything else. He’s got no plans to go slow or gentle with her, it’s a primal need now he’s inside of her. He thrusts hard and fast, encouraged by her throaty moans and nails digging into his shoulders. She clenches around him when he sucks a bruise into her neck, coming with a strangled cry. 

As much as he’d like to keep going – to never stop – it sends him over the edge. He stills inside her, then loosens his grip on her thighs and lets her down on shaky legs. Her arms wrap around his neck when the condoms discarded in the empty bin – that’s going to be an awkward find someday.

He pulls her skirt back down, saving whatever bit of dignity they have left.

“God, you’re perfect” he breaths, barely able to get the words out. She grins back.

“I bet you say that to all the girls you fuck in service toilets”

He shakes his head seriously “No, only you.” Her eye soften when she looks back up at him. “My place for round two?”

“Fuck yes. Let me tells my friends I’m leaving.”

“Yeah I should too, not that I’ve seen them all night. Do we look like we just – ”

They look each over, but there’s no denying its obvious what they’ve been doing, so they just laugh and shake their heads, no point hiding it now.

“You look like you got lucky” Murphy grins when he gets back to the booth. All heads turn to him and a cheer rings out.

“Alright,” he mutters “Enough of that. I’m just telling you that I’m leaving.”

“Jeez you did get lucky” Murphy smirks “You’re not the only one.” He jerks his head towards a booth next to them where Jasper is…

Well, he knows what Jasper is attempting to do, but kissing is not what’s successful. Both him and Maya are too handsy, moving frantically against each other and mouths far too wide. It reminds him of two middle schoolers who just discovered a film they wasn’t supposed to be watching. Maybe jasper has found his match.

“Wow”

“Yeah, that’s been going on a while now, neither of them seem to need air.”

Bellamy shrugged “I didn’t know he had it in him.”

“None of us did, but we didn’t think you’d be hooking up outside a bar either.”

“We wasn’t outside the bar” Bellamy scowls “We were in the old service bathroom.”

“Gross. Does she know you’re married?”

He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. Because – well, its an awkward thing to explain, that he’s married but his wife is 100% fine with him cheating, but its not really cheating because they’ve agreed to see other people, and she’s doing it to. What’s the point for a one night stand? Bree didn’t care, she didn’t cut their relationship off because of Echo, she just wanted more than he could give.

“She doesn’t need to know.” Is all he responds. Murphy gives him a disapproving look, and Bellamy has to bite his tongue. Not everyone can have a relationship like he’s got with Emori; not everyone can dedicate themselves to truly and completely to one person.

He cant hold anyone down.

In the morning, he leaves before she wakes up, and doesn’t leave his number. Not that its unusual for him to do that, and its not like he wouldn’t want to do this again, its just – maybe he had too good of a time. He thinks it might hurt too much if she didn’t text him, so he takes the ball out of her court and leaves with the door clicking softly shut behind him.

He collapses in bed when he gets home, Echo’s asleep in fresh sheets and a heavy scent of air freshener.

“Smells expensive” she murmurs sleepily, its barely 6am, she wont stay awake now – neither of them leave bed before 9 on a Saturday. It takes him a minute to realise Clarkes perfume must be clinging to him, one last reminder before he washes her off and forgets about her – its for the best.

“Yeah” he mumbles back, before letting himself fall asleep. “I guess it was.”

-*-

There’s a back street café not far from his apartment, its probably not quite walking distance, but he does it anyway, not risking going on the subway late at night. It’s the only place he knows that’s quiet late at night, quiet enough to do his marking when he cant be in the apartment. It’s just around the corner from the hospital, so there’s the occasional doctor or nurse taking a midnight break, but other than that, he’s mainly alone.

Well, apart from Miller, who’s insistent on bugging him tonight. He’s got his own relationship problems – well, did until he broke up with Bryan. Bellamy doesn’t want to seem insensitive, and its not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that they seemed to break up at least once a month so – yeah, he doesn’t care.

But he lets Miller sit with him, even though he kind of just want to be alone, but neither have much to say when they’re engrossed in their work, just take it in turns to buy rounds of coffee.

He decides around 1am that he’s probably a terrible teacher, if these quizzes are anything to go by. He’s about to say something to Miller when a familiar voice cuts ice through his veins.

He’s tried his damned hardest to forget about her, but the memory of her still clings to him in a way he’s not supposed to think about one night stands, about something that’s supposed to be empty pleasure. But she’s right there, back turned to him but he knows its her, staring up at the menu. She’s got a blue parka on over her scrubs, she must be on a break.

Theres a man next to her, he leans in and says something he cant hear, she turns to him and laughs, too loud and it rings out through the deserted café. She clamps a hand over her mouth but her shoulders shake anyway. He’s staring, but he honestly cant help it.

“Hey isn’t that – ” Miller starts, Bellamy cuts him off with a glare. “Right, got it. I don’t know what the etiquette is for seeing one night stands in coffee shops is.”

“It’s you shutting up” he muttered, low enough for nobody else to hear. He tries not to look – or at least tries not to make it obvious that he’s looking, but when shes made her order she looks around aimlessly, eyes roaming over the ugly artwork on the walls then finally land on him, her eyes widen in surprise, just as she looks like shes about to say something, she turns on her heel away from him, muttering something to the man next to her and walking out the shop.

Miller snorts “That could have gone better”, and Bellamy winces, he’s right, it could have. “Go talk to her” he says a little softer.

“About what? It was a one night stand a month ago.”

“Yeah but you liked her.”

“What does that matter? It’s not like it was going anywhere.” He frowns down into his cold coffee, sure – he had a good time, and maybe he did like her, but he’s made his bed with Echo, it doesn’t matter how much he likes someone, its not worth thinking about, he doesn’t want a relationship like that, he cant have one.

That doesn’t mean he cant have an arrangement – Echo does it with Roan, he did it with Bree, with others before her, and he did have a good time with her, what’s the worst she can do?

Say no. Sure, he’s have a bruised ego but he’s been through worse. So he ignored Millers smirk as he stands and follows her out.

She’s standing on the side walk, facing away from him, blowing fog into her hands and rubbing them together. He knows the feeling.

“Hey” his voice seems to quiet in the busy night, he’s worried the winds swept it away but she turns sharply in surprise. Her blue eyes widen as she takes him in, there’s a flash of hurt there.

“Hey” her voice comes out cooler than he thought it would.

“How are you?” He’s overly polite, not wanting to offend more than he already had.

“Good – tired. You?”

He gives her a rueful smile and “same.”

She nods in response, but doesn’t say anymore. Instead she turns away again and looks back down the street.

“Look,” he sighs “about the other night – ”

“No, I get it. It was a one time thing, I told you outright I didn’t do relationships. I had no right to have any expectations from it.”

“Oh” he blinks, maybe he’d misread, and she wasn’t disappointed he didn’t leave his number, it was just as Miller said - what’s the etiquette for seeing a one night stand again? It’s awkward. “Well, I had a good time.”

She turns to smile at him, soft and a little amused “Yeah, me too. Like I couldn’t walk the next day.”

They both laugh, and it feels natural, more natural than it should. “I know you said you don’t do relationships, I don’t either but if you ever wanted to do, you know – _that_ again, I’d be up for it.”

He shouldn’t have said it, because the way shes smiling at him is giving him butterflies. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He gives her his number and her friends comes out with her coffee order and they say goodbye with a promise to text.

Only – after a few days he begins to worry that wrote his number down wrong, or whether she was just being polite by accepting it in the first place and he’s seriously misread the situation.

Putting it out his mind, by Saturday night he’s got a glass of whiskey and a terms worth of lesson plans to go through and he probably needs to look up history memes to make his students actually pay attention to what was going on when his phone buzzed. It was probably Murphy telling him which bar he was supposed to be at. But he was putting his foot down tonight, he wasn’t going out – had a pile of work to finish and there was no way he was doing it on Sunday.

Except – it was an unknown number with a picture attachment. He turns his phone in his hand and wonders what goddamn virus could be attached to this, but something tells him to just look, he can delete the text if it looks dodgy – if that’s even how viruses work.

“Fuck” he hisses, he doesn’t even need to look further than the lacy bra to know who’s sending the text. Another message comes though underneath and he holds his breath.

_I’ve just finished worlds longest shift and cant stop thinking about you. Come over?_

Theres an address underneath, and who the hell is he to say no when she looks like that? In the cab he wonders if he’s a bit pathetic for just jumping up and running when she asks him to, he’d have never done that with Bree or any other girl he was hooking up with, hell he might not have even done that with Echo. But there’s something about her that he knows is going to completely ruin him.

She opens the door in a short, silky robe and he slams the door behind him as he walks her backwards towards her bedroom. His hands are clinging to her waist and his mouth goes wherever he can get to – her lips, cheek, neck, shoulder, he’s just got a need to be close to her.

“I thought you were never going to text” He murmurs into her skin. She sits back on the bed and unties her robe, letting it slip of her shoulders.

With a smirk she simpers “I told you my schedule was crazy. Off.” she nods to his jeans and he doesn’t hesitate to do as she says. If that’s an omen then so be it. He pulls off his t shirt and climbs into bed with her.

Their clothes are in scattered piles on the floor and his used condom just missed the bin when they lay back, out of breath and fully satisfied. Her heads on his chest and her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. Theres a feeling on warmth in his stomach that’s not usually there after sex – and its just sex, no feelings involved, there can’t be. But he cant shake this feeling, especially when she puts on his shirt and pours them both a glass of wine.

Her apartments got this ridiculous view of the New York City skyline, she’s high enough in her apartment building that he looks like he’s towering over most of the skyline. The lights twinkle and the heated floors make him forget they’re in the depth of winter. Clarke sits with her legs over his lap, her free hand running through his hair. His free arms wrapped around her, anchoring her to him as neither say a word, its enough to just be.

When clock hands have done another round, he says gently, so not to disturb the peace “You said your last two relationships didn’t go so well?”

She huffs a soft laugh, eyes not leaving the skyline “Was that a hint?”

He blushes and stuttered “No, not at all, I was just curious.” 

She’s silent for a long time, he doesn’t think she’s going to answer – and shes well within her rights not to, but finally she says “my first proper boyfriend, not the high school crushes that you know aren’t going anywhere, I thought this was serious, Finn was perfect. He was always kind and patient and gentle, I thought he might have been the one – until his losing distance girlfriend surprised him by moving from Texas to New York to be with him. He claims it was a misunderstanding, that when he left he assumed she knew they were breaking up but – ” she pauses, teeth clamping down on her lip. She looks down into her wine glass, not drinking, just twisting the glass and making the wine dance. “I hated feeling like that, like I was a cheater. I never meant to do it, I never would have gone near him if I knew he had a girlfriend.”

A wave of guilt crashes into him and knocks the breath out of him. If she knew that he was married – whatever they were doing here would be gone. He’d be out the door before he could even finish his sentence. He knows he should tell her, its not fair on her to carry on with their arrangement when she doesn’t have the full picture. But the selfish part of him, the part that’s winning this dilemma is saying its not cheating, its an open relationship, and the whole point of that is they get to sleep with other people.

It’s a split second decision, to not stop her talking and tell her that actually, he is married, but its okay, because its –

_Fake._

An open relationship and they can do stuff like this.

So he squeezes her shoulder sympathetically, and nods at her to carry on.

“I was still getting over Finn when I met Lexa, she was intense but, I liked her. I wouldn’t admit it though, and I spent so long trying to push her away because I was scared after what happened with Finn and when I finally did get around to telling her I felt she got shot a week later and died in my arms.”

He doesn’t know how to respond, he doesn’t know how to comprehend that kind of grief, of finally having hope then having it so cruelly ripped away. There are no words, so instead he holds her close to his chest and kisses her hair. They stay like until the sky goes from black to pale, the sun reaching its tendrils towards the chilly New York sky and the moon shies away, she finally gets the courage to ask him “surely I’m not the only one with a tragic dating history?”

He takes a deep breath, and considers lying, his reasons for not committing are raw and painful but after she bared her soul to him any protests his mind put up are appallingly ineffective. “I have major commitment issues” it’s the understatement of the year, but it’s a start.

She sits patiently against him, not pushing for the reason he’s going to give her anyway. “My mother – she wasn’t a bad person, but she couldn’t afford to raise my sister and I on a seamstress wage in the city. Neither of us have a dad that we know of, so I practically raised her while my mother, well she found less conventional ways to make money. I’d lock my sister in the bedroom with music so she couldn’t hear what was going on, but somewhere deep down she knew, especially as she got older. There was this one man, he got…attached to her. Hated us but claimed to love her. He’d lock her in the apartment and wouldn’t let her leave, said she didn’t have to do that to make money but did shit to help. She had to find a way to get money to feed us, when she did get out, he’d punish her for it. I tried, honestly I did to protect my sister but she’d hear even over the music. One day he’s gone out, and my mother and I packed up what we could carry and got out. We never stayed in the same place, we were always moving and hiding until – ”

He has to cut himself off, the anger and fear and unbearable pain is still palpable, it threatens to take over from the place deep inside he’s kept it hidden. He shouldn’t be telling her this. Not the girl he’s fucked four times, but there’s something about her, a safety he didn’t know he was craving. He says it anyway.

“She died a few year later, and it was just me and my sister. I swore that I would never, ever do that, I’d never be held down or hold anyone else down. I’ve seen what happens and I don’t want it.”

“Hey” she sits up to face him, hand going to his cheek. He wont cry, he never has - he’s strong and he’ll never give that man the satisfaction of breaking him. “You’re not like him. You’re more than your mothers son, or your sisters keeper. You know that, right?”

He nods with a weak smile, and though every fibre of his being wants to disagree, he doesn’t. Instead he leans forward to kiss her. Not hungry or desperate, its sweet and soft, gentle in a way he didn’t know.

When he lays down on top of her on the sofa and pushes his shirt over her hips, it’s not a quick, hard fuck like usual, its dangerously close to making love.

Much too close for comfort. 

It becomes somewhat of a routine, not hearing off her for days, until she texts after a long shift or a night off. Even on school nights he’s there after sundown and gone before it rises again, but he’s satisfied and content with that relationship.

Still, there’s more feelings than he’d like involved. It isn’t always deep conversations under the moon, sometimes it’s a rare Sunday afternoon off cooking breakfast together and drinking too strong coffee so they can keep going.

He tells himself that this is what friends do, and they are friends. They talk about work and their hobbies, and their childhood, all the things he’d talk to Miller or Murphy about.

But friends don’t look at him the way she does when he goes on a rant about how underfunded the school is just because its in a bad area and how these kids don’t stand a chance. They don’t look at him so soft and sweet.

They don’t give him butterflies.

The warm feeling in his stomach doesn’t leave when he’s around her, and its only a cold Friday night, after they’re both spent and wrapped in blankets on the sofa with his head in her lap does he realise what the feelings means.

She’s got the crossword in her hands and there’s a bottle of half empty California Moscato on the table. He’s watching the tiny flitters of snow outside, the clouds heavy and threatening a massive storm. He wishes more than anything that the snow would just stay in the clouds, but he learnt a long time ago that wishes don’t come true.

Clarke clicks her tongue, what she does when shes stuck on a clue.

“Tell me” he murmurs as shes tapping the paper with her pen.

“Tried to rescue Eurydice, seven letters”

He smirks at her pronunciation, its obviously something shes not familiar with. “Orpheus” he tells her with confidence, there’s a beat of silence as she writes it down, then a triumphant sigh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that”

He turns on his back, away from his view of the snow falling and into he depth of her eyes. “Orpheus tried to bring Eurydice back from the dead with his music. When Eurydice died he played and sang so beautiful and sad that the deities begged him to go to the underworld to bring her back, he even softened the hearts of Hades and Persephone.”

Her eyes widen in magical wonder and she sighs softly. “That’s beautiful.” Her hand gently brushes his hair out of his eyes, and her fingers brush his temples softly, lingering there. His hand moves to her cheek, thumb brushing her soft skin.

“Yes” he murmurs “it is.”

Theres a moment that’s heavy and loaded, he could say so much more in that moment, instead he needs to break the tension and says “What’s next?”

She blinks out of her daze and shakes her head a little, frowning slightly as she looks back at her crossword. “Seven letter word for Tiny sacks of air in the lungs…oh, Alveoli, obviously”

“Obviously Doctor Griffin.” He smirks and she laughs and bounces her knee so his head jerks.

“Funny. Nine letter word for the study of languages in written historical sources, come on them mister history major.”

He laughs “Philology, obviously.”

“Obviously, smarty pants.” she mocks with a roll of her eyes. He grins, but she frowns a the paper. “I’d have thought that was the study of people called Phil”

He squeezes is eyes shut “you’re hilarious.” He mutters and she laughs, either at her own joke or his dismayed reaction.

It hits him then, what the warm feeling is, why he’s never felt like this before, because with her feels so normal, so natural and easy and –

_Domesticated._

It feels like a dirty word in his head, tainted and petrifying, something he’s spent his whole life running away from. Yet if this is how it feels, what was he so scared of? Maybe Clarke was right, he is more than his Mothers son.

But even so, being here with her, it shouldn’t feel domesticated, because it can’t be. He has a wife at home, and while sexual side of it is fine with them, he’s not supposed to get emotionally attached to her. They’ve both agreed – all agreed, in some way that it’s just sex. So why does this feel like so much more?

He sits with abruptly making Clarke jump and drop her crossword.

“Are you alright?” She asks with eyebrows furrowed in concern, and he has to put it out his head how damn beautiful she is.

“Yeah I just – have to go.” He stands with the blanket wrapped around his waist, where the hell was his clothes?

“Oh” she frowns “Okay”

He nods curtly and makes his way to the bedroom, she doesn’t follow and he’s grateful, he cant explain to her his sudden change of heart, he doesn’t know how. He dresses quickly and grabs his wallet and keys, he stops himself from kissing her head as he strides past the sofa, where she’s still wrapped in nothing but a blanket.

“I’ll see you soon?”

He pauses at the door It would be too easy to take one look at her and just stay, to wipe the frown off her face and make her laugh again, its what he wants to do more than anything. Which is why he has to leave now, because sex is one thing, but an emotional relationship is not what he signed up for – what he was ever planning on signing up for. He doesn’t –

_Fall in love –_

Get feelings, not like this. Not so soul consuming that he has to look away. For the first time it feels like cheating. For the first time since he married Echo and they agreed that a conventional marriage wasn’t their thing, he feels like he’s done something wrong and it eats at him on the subway on the way home.

Echo’s asleep when he lets himself into their apartment, hair wet and the room smells like sex. He doesn’t care, just strips down to his boxers and climbs under the covers. She turns, still half asleep and says “I wasn’t expecting you home tonight.”

He smiles tightly into the darkness, she cant see but it doesn’t matter. “My plans changed.”

She doesn’t understand the true meanings behind the words, she doesn’t need to. He still feels dirty as she wraps an arm around his waist and falls back to sleep in his comfort.

He loves her, he knows that much. He wouldn’t have married her if he didn’t, but he doesn’t love her like he’s supposed to love somebody. Not that way he knows he could love, he just never wanted to.

No, he never wanted to love somebody so completely that he’d fall to his knees and dedicate himself to them, leave himself vulnerable to them. Be weighed down by them –

But he didn’t feel weighed down, quite the opposite he felt weightless and elated, natural in a way he didn’t understand.

Sleep doesn’t come to him, despite the deep, weary tiredness that takes over he doesn’t let it consume him. His mind is running through every single possibility and in the end, self preservation takes over despite him not wanting that, he knows that’s why it’s the right thing to do. Cut off all ties with Clarke, it was just sex, after all. It’s not meant to last forever.

The withdrawal process is always the hardest, he spends more time at bars with his friends and he’s reminded why he went to Clarke in the first place, the apartments so always _free._ But it doesn’t matter, he’ll find someone new, someone not as funny and smart, someone who’s not going to disarm him the way she did.

Her texts go unanswered, until he finally breaks from the guilt and sends her a curt _sorry, busy._

It eats away at him though. Murphy says its called ghosting, and it doesn’t sit right with him.

“Look” Murphy huffs in a quiet corner of the bar. “Any other arrangement you have with girls you break off, so why are you just ignoring her? Because you like her?”

Murphy’s more perceptive than anyone gives him credit for. He’s very good at slipping under the radar, his hard outer shell protects him so Bellamy never really remembers that he sees more and feels more than he lets on.

“Yeah” Bellamy confesses gruffly “I like her, and I can’t, that was never a part of it.”

Murphy just watches him critically. He’s ways judged him, never agreed with his decisions but he doesn’t have to; its not his life.

“The least you can do if you actually like her is tell her the truth. Tell her you’re married and that you’re cutting ties, its not fair.”

Murphy’s right. Weirdly he always is. So Bellamy downs the last of his beer and hails a cab, hoping that shes not working tonight. Theres no real pattern to her work schedule, so its pot luck when he knocks on the door whether she’s home or not.

He waits longer than he usually would, but finally there’s movement and the lock clicks, the door opening slowly.

Clarkes distraught, face red and eyes puffy from crying. His heart clenches as he steps over the threshold and takes her face in his hands. “What happened?” He asks softly, but she shakes her head and tears fall down her face. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her in close, a million ideas about why she could be sobbing in his arms like this run through his mind, all of them make his stomach clench.

“It never gets any easier.” She finally sniffles, his arms tighten around her and waits patiently until shes ready to talk. It takes a while, but she finally calms down. “I always think about the people I can help, but the ones I cant – ” she cuts off with a sob and he deflates with understanding. “It never gets any easier.”

“I know” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.” He leads her to the sofa and lets her curl up next to him.

“He was just a baby.” She whispers into his neck, a hot tear runs onto his shoulder. It’s not a sob, not even a whimper, shes just – crying, silently. It hurts more than when she was sobbing.

“Clarke” he breathes “What can I do? How can I – ” help? He cant, he knows that logically but he needs to do something. He cant bear to see her cry.

“Just, hold me, please.”

He’s powerless but to do what she asks, has been from the first time he lay eyes on her. So he pulls her onto his lap and wraps an arm around her waist, the other rubbing circles on her back soothingly. She’s still in her scrubs, and there’s stains of blood splatters on her arms. He doesn’t ask what happened, as much as he wants to know, he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need to put her through it again.

When they lay in bed, her draped over his chest, any thoughts of breaking this off disappear completely. Instead, he lets himself free fall into the indulgent fantasy of this being his life. It’s not fair on anybody, but he can’t help it. He’s tasted paradise and now he needs more. He needs to experience what he’s let himself miss out on.

In the morning shes not in bed, its empty and cold but the smell of bacon cooking draws him to the kitchen. She’s wearing nothing but his shirt again, a habit he doesn’t want her to ever break. She looks better in his clothes than he ever will anyway.

“Hey” she grins as she flips the bacon. “There’s coffee in the pot, help yourself.”

“Thanks” he winds his arms around her waist instead and buries his head in her neck, her hair tickles his nose and smells like peaches and something else that’s just her. “How are you feeling today?” In the daylight she seems happier and well rested.

“I’m fine” he can hear the smile and the roll of her eyes. “I’m sorry you came during my emotional breakdown, it was a bit of a shit week and it all just sort of imploded yesterday day. I swear I’m not usually like that.”

“It’s okay, by the sounds of it you deserved a good cry.” She laughs and shakes her head, her hairs getting in his mouth now, he shifts it out the way and places a kiss on her shoulder. Can it always be this way? Selfishly, he hopes so. “I’m sorry, I’ve not been around this week, or answering your messages, there’s just been a lot going on.”

She waves the spatula “I already told you I’ve got no expectations from you, we’re friends with benefits, you don’t have to drop your life because I text. You’re busy, its fine. It’s not like I’m around all the time anyway.”

“Yeah but you’re a _doctor_ , you’re allowed to be stupidly busy. And like you said, we’re friends, the least I could do is text you back with more than two words.”

“Bellamy” she sighs and turns in his arms so she’s facing him now. The very thought of cutting this off now it so far removed from his mind. “Don’t worry, honestly it’s fine. Life gets crazy and sometimes you have to roll with it, it doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you though.”

He smirks and hopes his feelings aren’t one sided. He shouldn’t hope for that, he should have hoped and prayed she didn’t answer the door to him last night, that she told him to go away and never come back. But he cant wish for that, because it would break him. “Oh you missed me did you?”

She scoffs and turns her head away “shut up”

“Oh no” he laughs “no chance, you’d miss me too much.”

“You’re getting the burnt bacon.”

“That’s fine, as long as you don’t miss me when I choke on it.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She turns again to face away from him to face the stove again.

His hand drifts down to her thigh, just below the hem of the shirt. “Did you miss me here?” He murmurs, her breath stutters and her grip tightens on the spatula. His hand slides further up her thigh, past the shirt and lingers on her hip. “Did you miss me here?” He asks again, she nods this time, her eyes fluttering shut.

He knows her so well, maybe too well, but he knows how to touch her to send her wild. He knows how to rub her clit to make her gasp and when to dip his fingers in to make her moan. “Did you miss me doing this?”

“Fuck, Bellamy” she gasps as he speeds up, he’s got making her come down to a fine art. The Spatula in her hand is abandoned as she grips the worktop. He kisses along her jaw and down her neck, sucks a bruise onto her shoulder where the shirt slips off as she comes.

“Is that what you missed?”

It drags a shaky laugh out of her, at least. “Ridiculous.”

They both get burnt bacon, but she makes it up to him by sucking him off under the table.

And to think; he came here to break this off.

*

Much to his friends disgust, he’s basically living a double life now. His life at work and with Echo is a picture is dysfunctional normalcy. They still sleep together, cook together, go to work together. They do all the things they’re supposed to do as a married couple but inside he just feels –

_Empty._

He knows he’s completely to blame, he’s indulged in a life he cant have. Let himself live out this fantasy of a life where he shares this massive New York apartment with its marble fixtures and underfloor heating. Where he spends hours wrapped in a blanket baring his soul and listening to Clarke bare hers. Sunday afternoons spent dragging one last orgasm out of each other and collapsing side by side on the bed elated and exhausted. He teaches her to cookfj his favourite dish and she teaches him how to bake. She laughs when he gets annoyed at historically inaccurate films and he laughs when she gets annoyed at medical shows and shouts _“that’s not how that works”_ at the television.

He thinks he’s got it covered, thinks he’s so goddamn clever until one morning, getting ready for work Echo says “You know you say her name in your sleep.”

It’s not said with malice or bitterness, instead a resigned sort of fact. He stiffens none the less and for the first time he understands the phrase cold sweat.

“What?” He snaps too harshly, the panic rising fast now.

Echo shrugs nonchalantly as she pulls on her sweater. “Clarke. Murphy told me that’s the girl you’re – ” she doesn’t need to finish that sentence, she knows what he and Clarke are doing, like he knows what she and Roan are doing. It’s fine but feelings were never supposed to get involved.

Murphy has told him time and time again to confess, the longer he leaves it the harder its going to be on Clarke and him. But he knows what this will do to Clarke. He knows how much she hated being the other woman when her ex never told her about his girlfriend back in Texas. But at this point he’s too far gone to consider anything else. It would break her knowing what he was doing, but it would break him if she walked away now.

“I’m sorry” is all he can think to say.

Echo smiles a little sadly and replies “I know” and the conversations over.

On Saturday night he and Clarke try to star gaze on the rooftop but the city lights were too bright, so they sit up with a bottle of tequila and drink as they overlook the city, bustling in the night. He throws a cigarette stub and they’re so high up he doubts it even makes it to the ground. She laughs at him for saying that, and he wonders how he went so long without her.

It’s crashes down a week later.

It wasn’t their usual kind of bar, not that he was complaining – the beer was better and it was a hell of a lot less crowded.

Even though Clarke said she didn’t have a clue how to play pool, she was kicking his ass.

“I thought you said you’d never played” he frowned as she pots _another_ ball.

“I haven’t, I don’t even know what the stick things called” she smirks as she leans to take another shot.

“Cute.” He rolls his eyes, he should have known she was hustling him – had been from the start. He groans as she pots the last ball, he’s barely got two in from the start. She drops her cue and lets out a victorious _ha!_ Rolling his eyes, he nudges her with his shoulder and she lets out a loud peel of laughter.

“You played me” he muttered sulkily, pouting over his cue.

“Like a fool” she agreed with a sickly sweet smile. Should have known. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulls her in and places a Kiss to the crown of her head, the voice in his mind is back screaming _domesticated_ but he pushes it down and ignores it, he basks in the domestics now.

“I’ll get you back”

“Sure you will” she smirks. She goes to say something, a twinkle in her eyes that says its something he’s not going to like when a eerily familiar voice cuts through.

“Clarke? Clarke Griffin?” They both whip around to see –

“Raven” she says with a laugh, “Oh my god, its been forever” Clarke breaks away from him to wrap Raven in a hug.

Confusion settles over him, and a sense of dread he cant explain. He met Raven years ago, in a bar stupid drunk, he’d not long married Echo and was still settling into the married none committed life, Raven was there alone. She was the first person he’d slept with after he got married, she didn’t care though, said what was one more –

Shit.

That’s the feeling of dread. He realised now, she’d driven from Texas to New York to surprise her boyfriend when she found him in bed with another woman. Clarke – she was the other woman. Now they’re standing face to face and he’s one dangerous conversation away from being caught out.

“Yeah I know” Raven steps back and looks over Clarkes shoulder at him and raises an eyebrow. _Here it comes._

“Bellamy” she nods with a smirk, Clarkes head whips around in surprise.

“Raven” he nods back, there’s no smirk for her, he can barely contain the trepidation.

“Oh, you two know each other?” Theres a smile on Clarkes face, but there’s confusion there too.

“Oh yeah” Raven snorts “we go way back. Right after Finn, you know – needed a bit of a rebound.” She looks past Clarke again directly at him. Theres a challenge in her eyes. “Sorry.”

“No offence taken.”

“I mean, it didn’t bother me” Raven shrugs, turning her attention back to Clarke. “I just didn’t think it would be your thing” she nods towards Bellamy and Clarke laughs.

“What, you didn’t think sex would be my thing?” She snorts, Raven laughs with her, Bellamy’s stomach dropped.

“No, we all know sex is your thing. The whole married thing.”

There it is. His best kept secret, his indulgent fantasy is crumbling right before his eyes. The smile doesn’t leave Clarkes face – its plastered there now, but there’s a confused horror in her eyes now.

“Yeah” Raven shrugs, “Bellamy’s open marriage, didn’t bother me but I know how freaked you got about being the other woman, I just didn’t peg you as going for this sort of thing.”

Theres a genuine worry that Clarkes face is stuck in that horrified smile she doesn’t repond, not outright but Raven doesn’t notice, shes looking at her phone.

“My boyfriends outside, I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah” Clarke breathes, and stands eerily still until Ravens left.

At least he should be grateful that she didn’t make a scene there and then. She turns on her heel, venom in her eyes as she storms past him to pick up her purse and jacket.

“Clarke I can explain.”

“I don’t care.” She’s holding back tears, her voice thick with emotion and he hates, _hates_ that he’s done this.

“Clarke please – ”

“I have nothing left to say to you, there’s nothing you can say that makes this okay.”

He’s frozen to the spot as she storms out, a gust of freezing air sweeps through the bar then gone when it slams shut. He has to do something.

Shes climbing into a cab when he gets outside, the airs heavy with threatening snow and he has to _do something._

Somehow on his way there his cab hits every red light and and inch of traffic he could possibly find. Despite Bellamy’s warnings he was going the wrong way, the busy way – it fell of deaf ears and Clarkes door was locked by the time he got there.

His hands shake and his head pounds as his fist collide with the door. He calls and calls and calls out for her. Begging and pleading for her to just listen to him, please. She doesn’t have to accept his explanation, but he needs to say it. With a shaky breath he steps back and he knows he’s lost. He was always going to lose, one way or another she was always going to be lost to him.

He sits slumped against the pristine wall of his imaginary apartment and watches the cracks form in its foundations. She has to come out some time, she has to hear him out, he has to apologise for turning her into the one thing he knew she’d hate.

Time doesn’t make a difference to him. Occasionally there’s a shadow under the door, and hopes that it might open but it doesn’t. Not yet.

He knows its hours, the winter chill has thoroughly disappeared by the time the door opens, painfully slow and Clarke stands more devastated than he thinks he can handle.

“Clarke” he whispers, soft and timid but there’s nothing but cold hard hatred in her eyes that were once some warm and –

_Loving._

“I don’t understand.” Her voice is strong and wrecked, she’s looking at him like she could burn a hole through him. Maybe she can.

“I know. But if you’d just let me explain, five minutes – that’s all I want. Then I’ll be gone forever if that’s what you want.”

She looks away and laughs humourlessly, “Stupid.” She whispers, to him or to herself, he doesn’t know. “Stupid stupid.” He takes a deep breath and screws her eyes shut, he can almost hear the battle in her mind. “Okay.” She nods finally. “Five minutes, come on.”

She takes a step back, inviting him in and its more than he ever could have wished for. 

It feels awkward, being in a home that once felt so calm was now fraught and tense. Clarke hovers by the doorway, the door not yet fully closed and he thinks shes going to run now he’s inside, now shes finally in his grasp she’s going to once again slip away.

But she doesn’t run. The door shuts with a soft click and her hand falls from the handle. She doesn’t look at him as she walks across the apartment, sitting on the edge of the armchair as if she doesn’t belong there. The space next to him on the sofa is cold and empty, he misses her in his space in a way he’s not allowed to anymore.

“Clarke – ”

“You’re married.” Its not a question, she knows by Ravens innocence and his reaction that him being married was never a question. He nods, wanting to apologise but knowing she wont let him. “You never told me.”

“No.” He confesses “I didn’t”

She looks at him them, blue eyes wide and staring straight into his soul. “Why not?”

What answer can he give to that? Theres so many. So many reasons and explanations and excuses he’s thought up slip away into insignificance now he’s facing her.

The truth, that’s all she deserves now.

“At first, you were just a one night stand, you didn’t need to know”

There’s a flash hurt in her eyes, but she stays silent while he says his piece.

“You’d have probably never come with me that night if you knew I was married, but at the time I didn’t really care. It was just – ”

_Scratching an itch –_

“Sex. I didn’t think I’d see you again but then there you were, ordering coffee at one in the morning and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity not to see you again. Then you told me about your ex and I knew I couldn’t tell you, I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

She scoffs and shakes her head “So instead you lied and kept secrets. You told me that night that you couldn’t commit because of what happened with you mother, you said you couldn’t hold anyone down or be held down yet I find out you’re married. If you think this doesn’t hurt you’re horrendously mistaken. ”

“I meant what I said” he says quickly “It’s an open marriage, no commitment necessary.”

“So it’s a sham?” She laughs, but its not funny. Its not humorous, but biter.

“Its – it’s a green card marriage.” He confesses for the first time. They never told anyone. They were always worried they’d be found out so they just kept the story the same, it was an open marriage, it works for them and that’s all that matters. “Echo and I had been dating a while when her visa was running out, she wanted to stay, and I had the means to do it. I meant what I said about not wanting commitment, and Echo knew that, so we agreed that for all intents and purposes we were married but just – ”

“It’s a sham” she says again, there’s no room for arguments in her tone. “Despite everything I still believe in love, marriage shouldn’t be used as a gain and it shouldn’t be abused like that.”

She’s right, it is a sham, but they’ve always known it. It never bothered him until now, until he’s hurt someone with his mistakes.

“The worst thing is,” she breathes, staring hard at her hands clasped in her lap. “Is that for the first time in a very long time, you made me feel things I didn’t ever want to feel again. But you crept in without me even realising until you started ignoring me. All that week it was just, crap. I kept saying to myself that I didn’t care, then I got angry when you answered by texts with barely a sentence and I thought fuck you, I can do so much better but then Friday came and it was the worst day. Just when I thought I was at breaking point you were there, and every bad thing I thought about saying to you, all my resolve just crumbled when you held me and I’m so fucking stupid for letting you back in like that.”

Tears ran down her face again, her head dropped into her hands and he drops to his knees in front of her. He longs to just hold her again, he bear seeing her cry but he needs her to know that they’re playing by her rules, whatever she wants.

“I meant everything” he whispers, his hand brushing her hair back. “About commitment, about not wanting to fall in love like that. Then you came along and tested me, you made me rethink my entire idea about it and I let myself fall into this fantasy, I let myself think it could be this easy. It was with you, everything came naturally and it scared the shit out of me. So I pulled back and that day I came over I was ready to confess everything, but I couldn’t. Not when you were crying in my arms like that. It was selfish to carry on like nothing had changed, I’ve been selfish since the moment I laid eyes on you and I’m so, so sorry.”

Pushing tears away from her cheeks, she stares at him with steely eyes and says “you need to leave. I can’t do this, not with you.”

“Is that what you really want?”

She nods, and he’s powerless but to do what she asks, so he stands shakily and places a kiss to her head, touching foreheads for a moment he murmurs “I’m sorry. I’m not giving up though.”

He turns to leave before she can say anything, and it’s better off that way.

*

It takes a week of radio silence from Clarke and his mind running overtime to finally sit down and have a conversation with Echo. It’s a conversations that’s long overdue, its not just Clarke he’s been selfish with.

She smiles tightly as she sits opposite him. “I’ve been expecting this for a while.” She confesses, and he’s the biggest jerk.

“I’m sorry”

“I know” her smiles more genuine now, softer and heartfelt. “But it’s alright, getting divorced wont effect my green card.”

He knows that, he’s looked it up to. “But they could investigate us if they think the marriage wasn’t genuine.”

Theres a tense silence, only broken by the loud clicking of the clock they brought from a pawn shop when they first moved in here.

“It wasn’t” she shrugs “But, people get divorced all the time. All we have to tell them is the truth.”

The truth. Like its really that easy. “What is the truth?”

“That we were young when we got married, maybe rushed into it without thinking and we grew apart. Now we’ve moved on and need to go our separate ways.”

Maybe it is that easy, then. They’re moving on and going their separate ways. He leans forward to wrap her in a hug that’s bittersweet. He’ll never stop feeling guilty about this, but he knows that if she finds an ounce of happiness here, it might have just been worth it.

“Thank you, Bellamy” she whispers “You gave me a chance at the life I wanted here, and I’ll always be grateful.”

“I’m just glad I could help, and I’m sorry, it didn’t turn out the way we thought it would.”

“I wont begrudge you for being happy.”

He nods, and the conversations over. Theres a weight lifted off his chest and knows that now is his time to fight.

Theres no light under the doorway of Clarkes apartment when he gets there, but knocks anyway. Theres no answer, but he expected that. So he sits on the floor up against the wall like he did a week ago, when he felt like there was no hope left for him.

Its hours of false alarms, the elevator doors open but its never Clarke who walks out.

Until finally, it is. Shes in her scrubs and parka again, like the time he’d seen her in the café. She looks tired now, not even lack of sleeping tired, just – fed up. He hates that he’s done that to her.

“Hey” he stands quickly despite his legs falling asleep. He’s expected venom and hatred, he half expects her to spit at him, but instead she smiles and nods towards the door.

“We should talk.” She murmurs as she unlocks the door. She fills the coffee pot and leans back against the cupboards. She’s staring hard at the floor, deep in thought. He wants nothing more than to break the fraught silence, but he’ll let her say her piece first.

But she doesn’t. She waits until the coffees ready and pours them both a cup. Milk two sugars for him, black for her.

“Long day?” He finally asks, and she half smiles at him.

“Long week.”

He nods in understanding. If his weeks been rough hers must have been worse.

“Okay” she sighs finally, her coffee half finished. “I’m still really pissed that you didn’t tell me you were married. I’d have never got involved if you were but that’s done, feelings got involved where they shouldn’t have and I cant shake that. But what I said about your marriage wasn’t fair.”

He pauses, this isn’t where he’d expected this to go. He’d expected screaming and shouting, almost wanted it – he wasn’t expecting an apology.

“I still stand by what I said, marriage is supposed to be a commitment, you’re supposed to devote your life to loving that one person and that thought always scared me a bit but its how I feel. However, I thought it through and I get it. You got over your own fears to help someone and the intentions at least should be commended”

When she finally looks at him, her eyes are guarded and no where near as soft as they used to be, but she’s here again, talking to him civilly and that’s more than he deserves.

“I did love Echo when we got married” he confesses, because he has to. He has to tell her the truth now. “Just not in the way people getting married are supposed to. When we figured out that actually we wasn’t as compatible as we should be we decided that an open marriage would suit us, and it did, until I met you.”

“Bellamy – ”

“Clarke I’ve gone my entire life without feeling even an ounce of what I feel for you. For the first time I thought that maybe me fears weren’t justified. You were right, I can be more than my mothers son. I don’t have to make the same mistakes as she did.”

A tear slips down her cheek and he takes a step forward, he didn’t come here to make her cry again.

“Please” he whispers, she nods and steps to meet him, arms going around his neck and holding onto him tighter than she ever has before.

“I’m still so pissed off with you” she whispers back raggedly.

“I know, you have every right to be.”

“I hate you for making me feel like this. I hate you for making me love you.”

The confession knocks the air out of him. “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you either.”

There it is. Out in the open. What they’re supposed to do with it now, he doesn’t know. She turns her head to lean her cheek on his shoulder. His hands on her back anchor her there, he wants nothing more than to never let her go again.

“We’re getting a divorce. We decided earlier, it wasn’t exactly a one sided decision either, she wanted it too.”

“I don’t want to be the one to break up another relationship.”

His heart clenches. “Raven and Finn wasn’t your fault, neither is this. Echo and I, we were always bound to break up at some point, we were never meant to grow old together.”

She pulls back then, there’s a wet patch on his shoulder where she’s been crying. He lifts a hand to her cheek and brushes a tear away with his thumb.

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.” She sighs. Her hand are still on the back of his neck, he leans forward to rest his forehead to hers. She smells like coffee and peaches, cigarette smoke and mint. She smells like –

_Coming home._

“I want whatever you want. If you want me to leave and never come back, it would break my heart but if it would make you happy then I’ll do it.”

“Losing you wont make me happy.”

They’re so close, he can almost feel her heart pounding. “Then tell me what will.”

Her eyes meet his, impossibly blue and beautiful, he’ll never love again like he loves her. “I want you. Its going to take time, I cant just forget that you lied and kept Secrets. But I cant forgot about _you_ either. I cant forget how you make me feel. For the first time I wasn’t scared about falling in love, it felt right even if every instinct told me not to do it.”

“We can go slow” he promises “as slow as you need I just don’t want to lose you ever again.”

“I’m already yours.”

He leans in to kiss her, hands firmly on her waist and his heart about to explode. Here in the dim kitchen light, he knows they’ll be alright.

_End._


End file.
